by Sarah Hualde
Enoch squirmed at the sudden change in temperature. His lower half started to shoot, but Flora was faster. The front half of his diaper was held in place until he finished his fountain imitation. “There you go Little E.” Flora cooed. The baby stretched and arched as she finished the changing.
Hand to the knob, Flora paused when the sound of angry screaming sifted under the bathroom door. She tucked Enoch into the sling and protected him with her body. One male voice shouted higher than the rest. She pressed her ear harder to the cold door and was able to make out most of his flustered words.
Ethan’s deliberate calm voice split rhythm with the agitated yelling Flora heard from the bathroom. A gentle knock clunked on the door, startling her.
“Flora? Sweetie?” Rachel’s voice did not reflect panic or worry. Her steady tone softened Flora’s nervous pulse. “It’s okay. You can come on out.”
Flora cracked the door open. Rachel smiled directly into her face. “I wasn’t sure what was going on!” Rachel extended her arm, guiding Flora over to a nearby office chair. “Thanks for coming to get me. Who’s the man yelling?”
Rachel pulled up a chair and sat beside Flora. “That’s Lucas’ father. He’s ticked we’re letting Joe go. Sit still for a moment, and I’m sure you’ll get the full scoop. He keeps repeating himself. “
Hobo Joe sat with a plaintive flat expression. His eyes brimmed with compassion and sadness. Flora marveled at his empathy for the angry man who was demanding he remained locked up.
“I don’t care what Lucas told you,” Mr. McNeil hollered. “I told him not to speak with anyone. You shouldn’t have been in his room, at all.”
Swinging a belligerent finger in Ethan’s face, McNeil teetered on his heels. His alcohol breath burned through the office. Flora leaned over to Rachel. “What did Lucas say?”
Rachel was too engrossed in the scene to remember her receptionist ethics scooted closer to Flora and whispered the details. “Lucas said Joe wasn’t the one who assaulted him. He admits to attacking Joe.” Flora sighed in shock.
The drunken father overheard Rachel’s whisperings. “That’s a lie! He never admitted to hurting this lunatic. He said he was there. Not that he hit the creep.”
“Now, Mark, there’s no need for name calling. Have a seat. Let me get you some coffee, and we’ll talk.” Ethan pulled out a desk chair. Mark McNeil plopped into the seat and slid his fingers into the handle of an oversized coffee mug. He brought the cup to his lips and drank deeply before spitting it back out.
“Disgusting! You can’t even get coffee right!” He rubbed at his eyes with fists.
“That’s my collagen coffee...” Rachel whispered through gritted teeth. Flora would’ve giggled if Rachel didn’t look so vengeful. “My sister gave me that mug from her trip abroad last year.”
Ethan didn’t bother correcting the man. He listened. Each time he spoke, he lowered the volume of his voice, much like Flora did to her children when they were on a sugar rampage. Mr. McNeil unwittingly followed suit and soon was speaking at a more acceptable decibel, though his arms flailed at poignant moments.
“It’s that kid, Braden. It’s all his fault. Lucas wasn’t like this until he started hanging out with him.”
“That’s not quite how Lucas explained things to me. I understand your distress. Braden isn’t around anymore to ask, and until we have more information, we’re not going to shadow his name with accusations. His mother deserves better than that. Don’t you think?”
The large man rocked in his chair, mulling it over. He nodded half-heartedly while glaring at Hobo Joe. “Well, if Joe didn’t do it who did?”
Flora’s phone vibrated, reminding her of awaiting messages.
✽✽✽
Victor sipped his coffee. His eyes focused on Lydia as she spoke. She told about her trips to the hospital. Then she quizzed Victor. “Do you have any idea why the boys targeted this street? Specifically, Cordelia’s house?”
Victor took the last thick swallow of coffee before setting his mug in the sink. With his back to Lydia, he said, “Who knows why teenagers do what they do? A girl, a dare, a little attention? Who knows?”
Lydia thought of Emily. The teenager was in desperate need of real, deep connection. Unfortunately, she settled for fleeting feel-good moments of thrill. Lydia hoped the girl was safe, wherever she was. It was time she got back on the road to freeing Hobo Joe.
“Did you hire Braden to deliver those packages or did he ...”
Victor spun to face Lydia. His face tightened to restrain his leaking emotions. “...steal them?” Victor crossed his arms. He steamed a weighty breath through his paling lips. “I’ve been asking myself the same question. With that girl operating my stall, who knows?”
The accusation of Emily helping a thief irked Lydia, but she couldn’t deny its plausibility. “She did well at the stand.”
Again, Victor steamed, “Except that she wasn’t supposed to be there. I hired Lucas to handle my stand. He said he needed cash and I, frankly, needed a break. Then I discovered his girlfriend took over for him, while he and his friend, did who knows what. Did you know she was price tag switching?”
Lydia didn’t remember anything of the sort, but she did recall Victor’s crazy expensive candles. “Maybe they weren’t selling at the prices you set.”
Victor’s eyebrows bent inward, nearly touching over his nose. “No, they sell. They’re for charity, remember? My point is if she was in charge, there’s no telling what happened while I wasn’t there. That Emily girl could have stolen the entire cash box.”
Lydia felt her shoulders tense. Her paranoia spiked, and she calmed it by scolding herself. Of course, Victor was right. Anything could’ve happened. However, she was certain, nothing had.
✽✽✽
“Joe isn’t pressing charges against Lucas. Though I don’t know why not.” Ethan stated. “Lucas said he remembers hearing someone run behind him. He knows it can’t be Joe. Joe was on crutches. Lucas also said Braden looked through the blinds into the Muggs house. Braden made a rude joke at Mr. Joe’s expense and then proceeded to soil Cordelia’s floral memorials to her husband.”
Flora forced herself to focus on the conversation as she scrolled through her phone’s photo gallery. She pulled two pictures into one text message and sent it to Lydia and Ethan.
Mr. McNeil seethed to himself. His rage was palpable, but fighting depleted his energy. “So, what am I to do now? How am I going to find the person who hurt my son? Do you suppose the crazy widow lady attacked the boys?”
Ethan didn’t answer with words. He exchanged a curious look with Hobo Joe, telling Flora he did suppose Cordelia attacked the boys. Her text message would only amplify their suspicions. Two tire track photos. One from the street in front of Mr. Goldberg’s house and the other from Cordelia’s driveway. A perfect muddy match.
Gus walked into the station. An amber and pink glow etched around his silhouette. The dimming colors informed Flora it was nearing her children’s bedtime. She still waited for Cordelia to collect herself.
After Mark McNeil’s raging entrance and wavering exit, Flora needed to gather her thoughts as well. She took advantage of the quiet to show Ethan her cell phone snapshots.
Flora watched Gus hand out burritos and fries. “Got one for you too, Flora.” He winked as he passed her. “I’m leaving it in the bag with Cordelia’s. Maybe she’ll feel like talking if you both are eating together.”
Gus tossed the bag to Ethan, who passed it to Flora. She shrugged and thanked him for dinner as he turned back to Gus. “I need to go. Parker, hold down the fort. You, head back to Cordelia’s and double-check her truck. I’ve got to get this bag of medicine to Ashton.” Ethan tucked a plastic sack from Miss Jacqui’s into his bag. Gus frowned. He shoved a fistful of fries into his mouth and hurried out the door.
✽✽✽
A loud ringing vibrated from Lydia’s purse and echoed through the foyer. Lydia recognized the ringtone. “My friend next door,
” Lydia said. Victor’s eyes bugged and the remaining angry flush on his cheeks faded to white. Lydia hurried to her purse, next to the front door, and retrieved her phone. “She says Gus pulled up to the Muggs house.”
“Gus, the deputy?”
“The same. I wonder what he wants.”
✽✽✽
Parker couldn’t remember which key was which. He flustered himself searching the sizeable key ring without asking for help. Rachel watched from her desk, slowly chomping her burrito. Flora wished she’d offer to rescue Parker. However, the stubborn receptionist wouldn’t budge from her dinner.
Rachel shook her head. Her ponytail flicked with each twist. “He’s got to learn to ask for help.”
“But,”
“Nope. He’s not a baby. He’ll find the key, or he’ll crawl over here and beg for me to save him.” Rachel wiped a guacamole smudge from her cheek.
Parker’s shoulders hunched. “You know I can hear you. This is a small station.”
Rachel cackled and sucked the bottom of her soda bottle dry. “And yet, you’re still not asking me for help.”
The scratching of metal, a jingle of chain, and the click of the doorknob let Flora know that after ten minutes of trying, Parker succeeded. Rachel mumbled to herself and wrinkled her wrapper into a tight wad of trash. “Uh, Rachel?” Parker’s voice went hollow. Rachel ignored him, obviously peeved the newbie hadn’t hollered for her assistance. “Rachel, radio Gus!”
“What why?”
“Just do it!”
Chapter 37
Kat jabbered on the line. Lydia couldn’t make out any specific words. Just panic and blur and urgency. Lydia paced along the entryway, waiting for a time to interrupt.
“While you’re preoccupied, I’m going to...” Victor whispered as Lydia tried to understand Kat. He smiled at her before turning to the hall. “Take your time.”
Lydia returned Victor’s smile. She leaned her back against the front door and rested a palm on the cold doorknob. Three sharp, loud raps thrummed the wood behind her head. She screamed. Kat, on the phone, screamed. Lydia screamed again. Her heart raced in her throat.
✽✽✽
Ivy welcomed a shaken Flora home. Kevin returned from work, shortly after her. He carried in dinner for Ivy and the children. Watching the kids distracted Ivy but didn’t erase her worry over Emily. She thought of her and prayed for her, every time Jess and Eden giggled in play.
At the dining room table, a few sips of warm tea returned color to Flora’s face. She had news, Ivy could tell by the woman’s distractible behavior. Ivy willed the kids to eat faster. She fed Scout as quickly as she could. When the little one kept spewing out baby cereal it made for a long drawn-out meal. Ivy tried to steal bites of her burger, in between spoonfuls. Scout would have none of it. Ivy wasn’t moving fast enough for the chubby little girl. “Well, if you’d keep it in your mouth and swallow, your tummy wouldn’t still be so hungry.”
Scout’s cheeks turned red in frustration. She shook a tiny plastic spoon in her hand and soon grew fascinated with clanging it against the high chair tray. Ivy seized the moment and snuck two servings of cereal into the baby’s mouth. Scout gulped it down without a thought.
“Victory,” Ever announced. Ivy blushed. She wasn’t aware she had an audience.
Scout startled at Ever’s proclamation. Once she analyzed the crowd, she clapped with glee at their attentiveness. Each smack of her palms released cereal drool from her fingers and splattered her mother with her dinner.
Flora chuckled as she excused her brood from the table. Hands flew, collecting trash, and serving ware. Each child dutifully rinsed their dishes and disposed of their waste. The children wanted to soak in the last hour of sunlight and completed their chores with a flourish.
Flora would have applauded if she noticed. She was too distracted by her day at the police station. Ivy sensed the conversation pulling the women together. She only needed to finish feeding Scout, change her, and snuggle her to sleep and then she’d be free to interrogate Flora.
Flora gobbled her food and collected Enoch. She fed him and changed him, quickly. She, too, needed to talk.
✽✽✽
The door knocking persisted. Lydia’s phone spat notifications from her pocket. “I’ll get it,” Lydia called down the hallway to Victor. He turned and waved gratitude to his visitor before continuing further into his house.
Kat slammed into Lydia. “What are you... drinking?” With sturdy violence, Kat knocked Lydia’s cup from her hand. The ceramic mug shattered against the wall. Lydia screamed in shock.
“What... what is happening?” Lydia cradled her smacked wrist and glared at her friend.
“You were drinking hot chocolate!” Kat spouted.
“It was coffee. Coffee.” Lydia’s mourned the last of her beverage. She squatted beginning to scoop shards of Victor’s cup into her hands. “Since when were you so passionate about hot chocolate?”
Gus entered the open door. Gun drawn, he hurried to Lydia. “What happened?”
“She’s not hurt.”
“Speak for yourself.” Lydia’s frustration escalated to anger. “Help me,” she commanded Kat.
“What do you mean?” Gus tucked his gun away and offered Lydia help to stand. “I heard you both scream and then Victor’s car jets down the street.”
“Victor’s gone?” Kat and Lydia united in thought.
“Why would he take off like that?”
“I’m not sure. What’s going on?” Lydia watched Kat spin through the foyer and into Victor’s house without explanation.
“Gus came to inspect Cordelia’s truck,” Kat said.
Lydia explained her texts to Flora, regarding Cordelia’s tire tracks. Kat seemed unimpressed with the finding. “Because of the tire tread photos?”
Gus nodded, still standing behind Kat. “The prints from Mario’s can smashing are the same as the muddy ones from Cordelia’s.”
“You don’t think she did it?”
Gus shrugged again.
“Maybe someone stole her truck,” Kat offered.
“And the finger was stuck to the grill?” Both ladies shuddered at the thought.
Gus cleared his throat and scowled at Lydia. “I’m more interested in what you’re doing in Victor Cotton’s house.”
Lydia explained the packages and her visit. “Then he offered me some coffee and hot chocolate, and then Kat called.”
“Hot chocolate!” Gus surveyed the living room and quickly walked down the hallway toward the garage. He cracked open every door as he passed. Gus looked around in each room before returning to Lydia and Kat. “Did you have any?”
Lydia frowned. “No. Why?”
“Where are these packages you delivered?” Gus followed Lydia’s pointed index finger to the pile of stacked cardboard in the living room. “Did he say what was in the boxes?”
“Only orders of his candles.” Gus nodded. His mouth hung open in dumbfounded worry. “We were chatting in the kitchen.” Lydia led the others to the kitchen carrying the shards of the broken mug. She set the glass in the trash can and walked over the sink to wash her hands. Kat examined Victor's cup.
Gus kept watching the ladies unsure what to do next. His job was to inspect Cordelia's truck, but he felt confident that Ethan wouldn't want him leaving the ladies alone. They were up to something, and he didn't know what.
Victor leaving was strange. Gus didn't know quite what it meant. Kat and Lydia stared at each other from across the table. Lydia washed her hands. Luckily no glass stuck in her palm.
Gus’ phone screeched from his back pocket. He turned his back on Kat and Lydia to answer the call.
“You want to tell me why you smacked my coffee out of my hand?” Lydia stared into Kat’s anxious eyes.
Kat frowned. “It's a feeling,” she said. “I was over at Cordelia's in the master bedroom, and I found a jar. It reminded me of the other night at Jacqui’s”
✽✽✽
“Wha
t’s going on?”
Flora shrugged. “The world’s gone crazy.”
“Did you see Lydia?”
Flora shook her head. “Parker said she was delivering packages.”
Ivy whipped out her phone. “I’ve tried to be patient, but I have to know.” Her thumbs flew across the phone screen.
Where are you?
Scout sniffled in her sleep. Flora reached a hand over to the couch and rocked the baby with a tired, gentle hand. “Any response?”
“She says she’s at Victor Cotton’s.”
Flora startled. ‘Tell her to get out of there.”
“Why?”
“The candles.”
“The ones Emily was selling for 100 bucks a pop?”
Flora nodded as Ivy sent three urgent texts. The teen kissed her baby and grabbed her purse. She flashed an imploring half-grin at Flora. “Go. Get her out of there. Then you hustle your buns back here. Don’t get in the middle of all the mess. Remember...”
“What happened to Lydia last time?”
Both ladies nodded unspoken goodbyes, and the younger hurried to her car. Steaming tears stung her eyes as she drove back toward the Muggs home.
✽✽✽
Gus fled in a rush. He shouted commands behind him. “Don’t touch anything! Don’t drink anything! I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Lydia stared at the shattered mug in Victor's sink. She pulled the Hot Cocoa canister closer. Opening the lid, she found brown powder with mysterious blue and white flecks mixed within it. Kat peeked around Lydia.
“Like Jacqui’s.” Emotionless Kat stared at the mix.
“You mean, like Cordelia’s.”
“Oh, my-of course! You chugged two mugs worth.”
Lydia’s head pounded at the thought. The raging subsided hours ago but a dull ache persisted behind her eyes. Lydia had been drugged. Cordelia carted the cocoa powder over to Jacqui’s and refused a cup for herself. Hours later, Cordelia drugged herself in steamy chocolatiness.
Kat pieced together Lydia’s thoughts. “Did she know?”
“Did she poison both jars?”
“Or was she the intended victim?”
